The Tale of Jonacin Options

[Wolfie]

Ok, so this is the story of my RP character, Jonacin

The Tale of Jonacin

Jonacin was born in Sentinel, Hammerfell. His father was a Sword Singer of above average power, and his mother was the daughter of a wealthy merchant. He was born after they had been married for several years, and was their first son. Even when in the cradle, his parents knew he would grow to be a powerful Ansei, for he would frequently form a Shehai as he played. The sword was always the same, a long katana with stylized wreaths of flame curling up the blade. He was always a very serious child, even as a baby he rarely laughed or cried. At the age of three, instead of playing with other children, he spent a lot of his time reading The Book of Circles, encouraged by his parents to learn all he could from it. As time passed, his skills became more pronounced, and he frequently formed a true Shehai. He entered the local Hall of the Virtues of War at the early age of 7, and quickly rose to the top of his class, even though all of his fellow students were several years older than him.

At the age of 12, he first formed a true Shehai in battle conditions. He was in a sparring contest with one of his classmates, and his blade snapped. Rather than stop the fight to get a new one, he instinctively concentrated and formed the Shehai. Within seconds after doing so, the fight was over, his opponents blade cut in half and the tip of the Shehai resting against his jugular. The instructors were all amazed at this feat, as were his fellow students. He was judged worthy to claim the rank of Master Ansei, a Sword Saint, despite his young age.


An Ansei is a person who can call up a Shehai in any form
A Shehai is an indestructable spirit sword that can cut through pretty much anything

[Wolfie]

Here's an update at long last

It was a week since Jonacin’s mother had killed herself. While he still occasionally broke down in tears thinking about it, he had begun to recover from it. The Hall had now become his home, with a room set aside for him to sleep in.

Otherwise, training continued as normal. He had begun training himself in the use of Heavy Armour, knowing that the extra protection afforded made up for the loss in mobility. He had been using Steel Armour to practice in, but he knew that one day he would have better.

The sparring match ended much as others had recently, with Jonacin losing to his unarmored opponent. He was too slow to keep up in his heavy steel Armour, but he was determined to keep trying. He was moving faster now than he had been the day before, and he would only get better with more practice. He drew back from his opponent and gave the salute, before removing his helm and going over to a nearby water fountain. He splashed water over his face, cooling himself off. One of the instructors came over to him and asked if he wished to retire for the day, but he refused, wanting at least one more sparring match.

His opponent was chosen, and he entered the sparring ring. He was armed with a short sword, whilst Jonacin was armed with a katana, as he always was. The instructor signaled for the match to begin, and his opponent leapt to the attack. Jonacin clanked backwards awkwardly, dodging as many blows as he could and blocking or parrying the rest. He saw an opening and lunged, but his opponent leapt lightly aside, his sword flashing out and clanging against Jonacin’s shoulder. The instructor held up his hand to end the bout, but Jonacin shouted out “No! This match to three blows!” The instructor looked puzzled, but lowered his hand. Jonacin concentrated all his energy on his opponent, and began to notice a pattern to his attacks. He would always feint twice, usually to Jonacin’s sword hand, before striking towards the shield. Every third or so attack, he would reverse the process, feinting twice towards shield and attacking sword. Jonacin began reading his moves, and knew what was coming next. He made no move for the feints, and when his opponent lashed out towards his sword side, he crashed his blade down, knocking the sword from his hand, and then striking his throat lightly with a reverse cut. It was now one blow each.